The Shield
by Elizabeth Goode
Summary: After the events of Civil War. Tony Stark angst and determination.
1. Chapter 1

*Disclaimer* Obviously, I own jack-nothing.

Tony stood outside on the balcony, letting the cool night air dry the sweat on his skin. He had been home for a few days now, and when he didn't wake up a sweating, screaming mess, he woke up thinking that everything was normal until the realization set in that half of his team was not coming back and that things were far from okay. He preferred the sweating and screaming, because that at least set the tone for the foreseeable future as far as he was concerned. Without the team, he was just ... what? A billionaire philanthropist playboy in a busted suit? Pepper was right to have left him. At the very least, she deserved to be able to sleep without her needy, emotional boyfriend sobbing into her shoulder half the night. He didn't want her to see him like that. He wanted someone, anyone, to look at him and see his carefully constructed image and not the sad orphan who had seen his parents murdered at the hand of a man his friend had chosen over him. If he wasn't a better friend than a brainwashed assassin, what kind of worthless asshole was he, anyway? Vision had stayed out of a sense of loyalty to the man who had helped to create him, and Rhodey - well, what was he going to do? Run? He couldn't even move his legs right now thanks to Tony. Pepper had called, but he didn't answer. It just seemed pointless. When your ex-girlfriend pity-calls you to assuage her own guilt, and you're pathetic enough to actually _want_ to answer? What does that say about him, anyway? He doesn't even want to think about it.

The dream that had jolted him into awareness had been worse than the others. He wanted to drink, to make the alcohol burn the images from his mind, but he resisted, mostly because FRIDAY would never stop hounding him, and she would tell the others. He didn't need a robot intervention on his hands. He laughed bitterly, picturing DUM-E timidly stating, "I'm not as smart as my sister FRIDAY because Daddy drinks too much ..." Howard drank. Everyone knew that. Like father, like son. He stared longingly at the bottle of scotch on the shelf through the doors. He had always heard that Howard partied before he married and had a son, but that the loss of and search for Captain America had spurred things along. Maybe Howard had been happy about having a son at some point, but by the time Tony had any concrete memories, Howard had been in various stages of disappointment and drunkenness. Did he somehow sense his young son's innate inferior-ness to Steve Rogers? Since he had "made" Steve, did Howard feel like he had fathered him in some way? Steve's absence drove his father's drinking, and soon, he was making comparisons between Tony and Steve that left the billionaire's son convinced that the better of his father's "sons" had gone missing under the ice all those years ago.

People liked a good sob story, especially when celebrities were involved, and more than one tabloid had speculated about Howard Stark's treatment of his young son. An unauthorized "biography" of Tony had been published years ago, right after his return from Afghanistan, that claimed to have sources who used to work for the Starks going on record to state that Tony was a drunken mess like his father because Howard had been abusive. His legal team had destroyed the book, wiped it out of existence, but not before enough people had read it to feed it into the collective rumor mill consciousness. The truth was somewhere in the gray. He could only remember three times his father had struck him physically, and they had all been when Howard was under the influence of alcohol. One time, he was pretty sure he had deserved. _I probably would have hit me too_ , he thought, remembering the terrible mess his fourteen year old self had caused in his father's laboratory. The scorch marks were still on the ceiling. Howard only remembered one of them, and he had apologized, if only at his wife's insistence that such behavior could not continue. Mostly, he remembered desperately wanting his father's approval, to hold his interest for any significant amount of time, because even when he was drinking, Howard Stark was a brilliant man, and Tony wanted him to recognize in his son the brilliance he had passed on. To see something in Tony that was worth investing in emotionally. To be something more than just an heir to the Stark fortune. He wanted to see his father look at him the way he looked at photos of Steve Rogers.

That was at the heart of it. Everyone who purported to "care" about Tony had recommended that he "see someone," the preferred societal euphemism for talking to a shrink about his problems. The advice, in most cases, came from a sincere desire to not watch him crash and burn yet again, but Tony did not find talking to a psychologist particularly useful. He already knew everything they wanted to tell him. He had read enough self help and psychology texts to write a dissertation himself. He could have a Ph.D. in it in days if he really wanted to call in the favors. He could do a dissertation in ... what, a week? Two weeks for quality work. Confidence in his intelligence was not something he lacked. His problem was that he knew himself _too_ well, not that he needed help understanding himself. He knew the kind of mistakes he could and would make, and the Accords had been his best shot at creating a set of circumstances that led to fewer epic mistakes on his part. If he couldn't make himself stop, he could make another entity make him, and that was the beauty of the Accords.

 _When people like us want to do things that are going to hurt people, we need to be forced to consider the consequences first! What the hell is so wrong with that?_ Steve was so blinded by his obsession with saving Barnes that he was willing to let half of their team follow him into a shadow-life, lived underground. Steve's "job" was being Captain America, and he was willing to wear white t-shirts and khakis from Wal-Mart for the rest of his life, but what about the others? Clint had given up on his retirement and being with his family. Natasha had been put in an untenable situation, like a kid having to listen to her parents fighting, trying to take both sides and not lose either of them. He sincerely hoped that she was all right, wherever she was. He wasn't sure about the Ant-Person, but as far as bug-people went, his Spiderling at least, was okay. Banged up, but all right. If he hadn't found the gift Tony had left him, he would soon. Wanda had given up not living in a shitty place, and embraced her inner Spice Girl enough to show poor Vision what she really, really wanted, which was apparently mind-shoving him down through the floor several stories into the ground. He grimaced. Why the _hell_ was he standing on a balcony in the dead of night, trying to choose not to drink yet again and thinking about Wanda fucking Maximoff and the Spice Girls? _Dammit, Steve. This is what you've done to me. I'm freezing my balls off outside and thinking about 1990s pop culture? What next?_

Sam had given up his life to help Steve too. He had a job helping other veterans, as well as being an Avenger. Was that what Steve had expected from him, too? Would that have saved the team, if Tony had just walked away from country, duty, and family-of-choice to follow Captain America into the horizon? How was that fair? Even if he had given up everything, he would have eventually found out about his parents' murder. One way or another, with or without Zemo, the truth would have come out, and Tony would have had to face the fact that his "friend" would choose his parents' murderer over him again and again. That was what hurt the most. Not that Steve wouldn't listen to him about the Accords for more than a few broken moments. Not that they fundamentally disagreed on an important issue. It was the fact that as much as Howard Stark had been a shitty parent, he had been the only father Tony had. For him to be done in by a man who was irreplaceable to Steve Rogers, the only person whose opinion seemed to matter to Howard, was devastating. Knowing that if Howard had been alive, he would still prefer Steve to Tony. Knowing that his mother was an innocent bystander in all of it, guilty only of loving her husband and son, no matter how unworthy both of them were. He shuddered, remembering Steve, a man he had trusted, driving the shield Howard Stark had created into his chest over and over again. It was deeper than that he was using Howard's creation to kill Howard's son, it was the terrifying feeling that somehow it was a judgment by Howard himself, as if with every blow, his father was showing him how very little he mattered in comparison. He wasn't a super soldier, his blood wasn't infused with serum. It was pouring out of his broken nose in a Siberian bunker. It was dripping onto the ice when Steve left him there to die alone. It was pooling under his skin in the vibrant bruises that marked his body, made by an object that was meant to protect rather than aggress. The Accords had been born from the image of Steve dead, placed in his head by Mindfuck Spice herself, and where had any of it gotten him?

The bottle of scotch mocked him from the shelf inside, the amber liquid seeming to glow in the dim light. He glared at it defiantly, daring it to tempt him again. He was not going to to do it. He wouldn't be Howard. He wouldn't contribute to the tabloid frenzy about him. That bottle could sit there forever and he wasn't going to touch it. He deserved to feel every emotion, every twinge of pain. He couldn't analyze it if he couldn't feel it, and if he couldn't analyze it, he couldn't be prepared for the next time betrayal came knocking. He needed to remember how this felt so he could avoid becoming this vulnerable mess of a human being again in the future. He re-entered the apartment, closing the balcony doors behind him and flipped the bottle of scotch the bird. "Fuck you," he ground out. "Fuck you, Howard, fuck you, Steve, and fuck Ross and the damn Accords!"

He stood up straighter, even though it hurt his damaged ribs and went straight to his work room. An idea was forming to help Rhodey, and part of his new resolve was to channel his own anger and misery into improving Rhodey's condition as much as possible. If only one of them could be happy, it should be Rhodey, whose only crime was having faith in him. All he could do that was useful was make certain that as little of that faith as possible was squandered. Tony wiped the tiredness from his eyes, ordered FRIDAY to retrieve him some coffee, and got to work. Working at 3AM in his underwear wasn't the weirdest thing this billionaire philanthropist playboy had ever done, and he practiced a grin in the reflective surface of a sheet of metal and shrugged. It was a start.


	2. Chapter 2

When Rhodey was released from the hospital, Tony was there to pick him up himself. He brought him to the Avengers compound not just because keeping his eyes on his best friend was the only way he could convince himself that Rhodey was real, not dead, and not angry with him, but also because any accessibility issues were immediately solvable with a rich, genius inventor on 24-hour call. He could have paid a fleet of experts to make sure Rhodey's every need was met, and he had employed a few of the best physical therapists available, but he preferred to be personally involved. In order to fully understand what kinds of technology would be most helpful, he had to have a working mechanical concept of the deficits that needed to be overcome, and that meant that he didn't get the benefit of paying someone else to pay attention to what he needed to know himself. Plus, it was Rhodey, the best friend he had ever had, who always had his back and had done nothing wrong to deserve this. He owed him the face time. And, he didn't deserve to be spared one ounce of his friend's pain.

As difficult as this had to be for Rhodey, a man whose career was defined by action, he was surprisingly cheerful more often than not. He approached his recovery the same way he had always tackled his career - with action, knowledge, and incredible determination. He never tried to stop Tony from working on the leg supports, and in fact, gave excellent feedback on design and function. They were working on that when the delivery for "Mr. Stank," arrived. Tony pretended to be annoyed, but actually, he was so glad Rhodey was able to have a good laugh over anything at all, that he was glad the elderly delivery man had messed up his name.

He had debated the idea of not sharing the letter's contents with Rhodey, but quickly decided that he lacked the energy to deal with more secrets and lies. They were camped out in Tony's workshop, where he was tinkering with the controls for the leg supports. His broken suit slumped in a corner like a wilted robot. He sat still while his friend read the letter, waiting to hear what he thought, anxiety bubbling inside him as he worried about what would happen if Rhodey insisted that they inform Ross, or worse, that they call Steve.

He must have looked as miserable as he felt, because he suddenly felt the pressure of his friend's hand on his arm, and realized that he had closed his eyes tightly while Rhodey read the letter.

"Well?"

Rhodey looked mad, and Tony felt his heart pounding uncomfortably. He held his arm across his chest as if to reassure himself that the arc reactor wasn't there.

"You look pissed. Are you pissed?"

Letting out a long sigh, Rhodey laid the letter down. "Pissed? Hell, yeah! Steve waltzes off with Let It Go into the ice caves and leaves you there, and he sends a damn letter? Who was supposed to receive this if you didn't make it out? When he left, you were still trapped on foreign soil inside a dead suit! He must have eyes somewhere around here to even know you made it out, and he tells you to call him if you need him? You needed him to pay attention when the Accords first happened, and you didn't need him to defend the guy you watched kill your parents! That shit isn't fair, Tony. You didn't deserve that. If I'd been able to, I would have come to get you myself!"

Trying to keep his resolve of limiting his embarrassing displays of emotion and focus on the tasks at hand, Tony took the letter and folded it back up. He would have to find a place to keep it where he could be certain that no one would find it and use it against him. Ross was already dying to find a reason to throw him in the Raft and sink him. Now that Steve had broken out the rest of the team, there wouldn't be any worry that he would come back and do it again for Tony. He was glad they weren't still imprisoned on the Raft. It would have been a hard fight for Tony to get them released, and another hard fight wasn't something he had the emotional strength for at the moment. Suddenly aware that Rhodey was staring at him with the expectation of a response of some kind, he snapped back into awareness.

"I - I know you would. You did when I was in Afghanistan."

Any pretense Tony had of keeping his cool was wrecked when he found himself pulled into a tight hug.

* * *

Rhodey wasn't usually a particularly physically demonstrative person, but things were really fucked up right now, and it was clear that Tony desperately needed help. He was still too hung up on Pepper to consider dating, and recent events had shattered his ability to trust. If Rhodey didn't hug the guy, no one would. If Rhodey didn't keep an eye on him, no one would. If Rhodey didn't ask him the hard questions and get in his personal business, literally no one else would. He didn't have parents to check on him, his girlfriend had left him, and most of his team had defected, and on top of that he had been physically abandoned. It made him feel betrayed as well. After all, he had considered them his teammates too. His shoulder felt suspiciously wet, and he tightened his grip on his friend.

"This is ... I'm sorry, man. I'm kind of a mess. I can't seem to - stop," Tony desperately wiped at his eyes, wincing when he pushed a little too hard on some of the healing bruises that still showed dark on his face.

"Then don't. Let me help you this time, okay? I have some questions and I want you to be honest with me. Can you do that?"

Tony nodded, still trying to rein in his outburst.

"I was in the hospital when you got back. I know what you told me about the fight, about finding out that Barnes killed your parents, and I know that they left you there. How did you get home? How long were you alone in that bunker?"

Tony didn't have it in him to lie or put up a fight. "They said about 18 hours. It took that long for them to figure out that I was there and get the necessary clearance to pick me up."

"Eighteen hours! You were trapped in the suit, weren't you? Like a sardine in a can for eighteen hours, alone with your thoughts? And you ended up with the shield? You're leaving something out. What went down out there to leave you like this? Every time I say Rogers' name, you tense up. You're not sleeping, and you're spacing out half the time. Talk to me, Tony. I never thought I'd say this, but I miss your loud mouth!"

"He - they ..." He pictured it again, the shield slamming into his chest until it finally lodged there, and broke out in a cold sweat. The sight of Barnes strangling his mother while she begged for help. The ghost of Howard belittling him, and the unsettling sight of that shield sticking out of his own chest, waiting for the final blow to end his life. When he realized what was happening, Rhodey was already way ahead of him.

"You're having a panic attack, Tony. Breathe with me, okay? We're fine, hanging out in your workshop. Breathe, you idiot! Come on, man," he added gently.

It took several minutes to regain a sense of control, and his first reasonable breaths came out in a rush of ill-timed laughter.

Rhodey gave him a dark look. "Nothing about this is funny. Nothing."

Tony managed a nod of acknowledgement. "I'm aware of that. Acutely aware. It's just - an inappropriate - emotional response."

Keeping a firm hand on his friend's back, Rhodey shook his head. "You're the most inappropriate person I know, so I guess it kind of figures, huh?"

While Tony worked on calming down, Rhodey glanced around the shop, curious about what had been occupying his friend's time, and he saw the broken suit as if for the first time. The chest plate was wrecked, a hole where the reactor should have been, and a series of dents, one that went in deeper than the rest. He glanced from the suit to the shield, and back at his friend, and swore. "Son of a bitch. He hit you with the shield?" When Tony said nothing, he reached out to pull his t-shirt up in the front. The bruises had faded, but they were still there, right where the rents in the suit showed they would be. The anger swelled hot and bright for a moment, but now was not the time. Tony didn't need him to be angry, he needed a friend to care about what happened to him.

"Yeah. It's been ... hard. My dad made that shield and I think I must be losing my damn mind, but I swear to God it seemed like Howard passing judgment and finding me wanting. It's nuts. I'm nuts, I'm pretty sure. Am I losing it?"

"No, you're sleep-deprived, and you've been through some serious shit. You are coming with me, out of this room. We're going to get some food and water inside of you, and then you are going to close your eyes and pass out until you wake up naturally. Anyone who calls for you goes through me first."

Tony tried to protest. "But you - "

"Don't need steady legs to pick up a phone? You're right. You're so smart. I'll get your jacket, Mr. Stank. Pub food. Greasy-ass burgers and deep fried junk food. Or pizza. Your choice."

Rhodey propelled him forward. "Wait - no cash on me -"

"Good. I'm buying. You've paid for enough shit for other people to last a lifetime. This one is on me."

"But - "

"For the record, I didn't expect you to have me halfway back on my feet less than a month after everything went down. I'm actually pretty grateful I have a good friend who has insane amounts of money and a huge brain to give a crap about me. If I want to buy you a sandwich or a pizza and take a little responsibility for your wellbeing, I don't expect you to give me a hard time about it, right?"

Tony actually grinned, and Rhodey felt a wave of relief. Life had been so serious for so long he couldn't even remember the last time he and Tony had gone out for greasy food spontaneously. Between the military, running a company, running around in metal suits, saving the world, and various relationships over the years, they hadn't had the kind of time most people had for casual fun. He threw his friend a jacket, and they headed out the door.

The reporters who seemed to be perennially camped outside rushed them like piranhas on a carcass.

"Mr. Stark! Is it true that you and Pepper Potts have broken up?"

"Mr. Stark! People are saying you helped the Avengers escape. Is that true?"

"Mr. Rhodes! How is your recovery going?"

As if he hadn't been having a panic attack fifteen minutes ago, Tony handled the press.

"Look, I get that you guys have to go where the news is, and that the Avengers' personal drama is a huge seller for you, but I've been working all day and my friend and I are just getting some food. I can give your questions the attention they deserve at another time. There's a press conference tomorrow afternoon. Can you guys be cool and let me eat pizza? I'm hungry!"

To Rhodey's surprise, most of the reporters laughed and backed off. One called after them, "Have a good meal, Mr. Stark! We'll see you tomorrow, then!" A few of the more aggressive paparazzi photographers snapped more pictures, but Tony ignored them, so Rhodey did too.

* * *

Tony didn't feel hungry, not at first, but when the smell of the pizza hit his nose, he realized that he hadn't really eaten much today. Or maybe yesterday too. Before he knew it, he and Rhodey had put away an entire pizza, and it had actually been _fun_ to get out of the Avengers compound. It seemed like he had done nothing but work for months. He honestly couldn't remember an unscheduled moment of enjoyment since Pepper had left. It felt good to sit with a friend and talk about college days and good memories. He was momentarily overwhelmed with gratitude for Rhodey. He wasn't alone. He deserved to be, but he wasn't. Someone on this planet he had helped to save cared about him beyond what he could do, make, buy, or save, and he felt the whirlwind inside his head recede to reasonable levels. He laughed at a joke Rhodey made, even though it wasn't really that funny. He joked lamely back, and both of them bantered casually with the waitress, who turned out to swear like a sailor and couldn't seem to stop herself. The second time she dropped the F-bomb, he thought of Steve and his "language" admonishment via the comm system and almost snickered.

"Jesus, Rhodes! What's next? Karaoke? Euro Disney? Hey, you wanna fly to Euro Disney? We won't have to wait in line for the rides with your chair!"

Rhodey shook his head. "Like you can't afford the Billionaire No Lines pass! You don't need my ass to ride roller coasters, Tony. And, no, we're not flying to Euro Disney. You're going to go to sleep like an actual person, remember?"

Tony pretended to be disappointed, but the idea of sleeping was sounding better and better. The pizza sat heavily and a food coma might be in the cards for him after all. While Rhodey straightened out the bill, Tony yawned and stretched. The waitress casually patted him on the shoulder. "No wonder you're so tired! I've been following the news, Mr. Stark. Take care of yourself, okay? Some of us won't ever forget what you did for us!"

He stared at her, confused. "What I did for - what?"

She looked at him like he was absolutely stupid. "You flew some kind of alien bomb into space, remember? It was in all of the papers. Saved the city? Maybe the world?" She gave him a quick peck on the cheek, and blushed. When Tony still didn't reply, she smiled at Rhodey. "I think your friend is exhausted. He's forgotten saving the fucking world!"

Rhodey handed her a substantial tip. "Thanks for putting up with us tonight. We can be kind of a lot."

She gave Tony a concerned glance. "Take care of him. I think he's going to crash hard. I'm sure you've all - both - been busy recently."

Tony stared blankly for a moment, then recovered his senses. She was being sincere. She wasn't being sarcastic, she wasn't messing with him. She was just a citizen who seemed to be kind of an Iron Man fan. It was fucking nice. He smiled at her sheepishly. "Sorry, I kind of spaced. It's been a rough week. Month. Year? Whatever. What was your name?" He read her nametag aloud, "Hello, my name is Benedict? You don't look like a Benedict. I suppose the guy can act, but he's not my favorite Sherlock Holmes."

"Benedict" laughed. "I can't find my name tag, so I've been using the one a guy who got fired left behind. Most people don't even look. The manager hasn't even noticed. It's Renee."

"Well, thank you, Renee. You've been a good waitress and an excellent human being. I appreciate it more than you know," he said, trying to sound like he actually meant it. He often felt like he sounded insincere even when he meant not to be. He didn't want to be dismissive. "You a student? Actress? What's your backstory, Benedict?"

She shrugged. "I'm on a break. From my Ph.D., from dating, and from my actual life. How about you?"

With a grin, Tony replied, "You've seen the news. I've been ... busy. Ph.D. in what?"

Renee crossed her arms. "Ph.D. in "rewrite your entire dissertation and change your focus," that's what. I have a Masters in psychology from NYU, and I'm writing about how ... " She trailed off, clearly embarrassed. "Well, this is awkward." Her face flushed, and she looked around as if to make sure no one was listening.

"I was studying how things like the sudden appearance of aliens, knowledge that there's life beyond Earth, etc. changes the collective narrative psychologically. So, I've done a fair amount of reading about super heroes, everything available on the Chitauri and Asgardians that isn't classified, well - you see. My professors don't like my research interests and things got so heated the last time I tried to defend my prospectus that I lost my temper and quit. My boyfriend dumped me for another dude, which is fine, I mean, I'm glad he came out or whatever, but the timing was shittastic. My parents wanted me to go to med school, so they're mad too. Suffice it to say that waiting tables here for six months has been better than the last entire year of my life. And then you guys walked in, and you looked so tired, and I probably should not have kissed you on the cheek, but I wanted you to know that even if I wouldn't have minded a stray alien or two tearing up the psych department, I'm glad you saved the city. Holy shit, I'm still talking. Why am I still talking?"

Tony burst out laughing. "I ask myself that literally every day. Listen, if you ever get sick of waiting tables and want a job, hit me up. We're hiring in a few departments right now, and with a Masters degree, you're bound to be qualified for something," He fished a card out of his jacket pocket and scribbled on the back of it. "When you get through to HR, tell them you already spoke to me, and they should send you through a hellish phone tree that ends in Pepper Potts. I'll give her a heads up that if Benedict Cumberbatch calls, we should give him a job."

Renee smiled. "My ex might turn inside out with jealousy. He's tried six times to work for Stark Industries. I'll definitely keep it in mind! Seriously, favorite customers ever. And not just because of the tip and the job offer. You guys cracked me up just listening to you razz each other. Get some damn rest, Mr. Stark. I wrote a whole section of my unusable dissertation on traumatic stress. This shit is no joke."

On the way out the door, Rhodey shook his head at Tony. "Only you could pick up a hot, smart woman in a pizza joint by zoning out and then offering her a job."

He protested, "I wasn't actually flirting and neither was she. She's probably not even thirty. Way too young for old guys like us. She was nice to us, didn't call attention to us, didn't spit in my food for screwing the Avengers, and she seemed like she really cared. I guess I'm kind of starved for positive attention. And I'd actually like to read her paper."

Rhodey gave his arm a gentle punch. "And here I was being the best wingman I could be. I didn't even call you Mr. Stank once in front of her!"

"You're really not dropping that, are you?" Tony asked.

"Not a chance, Mr. Stank."


	3. Chapter 3

Back at the Avengers' compound, Rhodey found that getting Tony to agree to do something was a lot easier than actually making sure that he did the thing. He understood how Tony's brain worked better than most. On the best of days, the man could shoot out of a sound sleep in the wee hours of the morning due to an idea or breakthrough and disappear into his workshop for hours and sometimes days. He could be in the middle of a card game and suddenly start mumbling to himself about electromagnetism. He had always been energetic, physically and mentally, and as much as he seemed to crave attention and constant stimulation, it was staggeringly difficult to get through his defenses and truly reach him. You could think you knew him and discover that you only knew the Tony he wanted you to see.

Rhodey assigned the blame for that to Howard Stark. He had heard things in Tony's voice after trips home that he didn't hear any other time. He noticed that Tony almost never spoke of his father, and he noticed that all of his family activities centered around his mother, and around Jarvis, his butler. If Tony had once sobbed miserably into Rhodey's shoulder after returning from Christmas break, so drunk he could hardly stand up, after his parents had been killed in an car accident, then Rhodey had never mentioned it to anyone.

After Afghanistan, there had been a lot of problems, the least of which was pronounced insomnia, but by then, Tony had been on a creative bender with the Arc Reactors, suits, the Avengers Initiative, and saving the world. He suspected the anxiety, the PTSD, and the Howard-imparted feelings of inadequacy, but there was never a good time to bring it up. He should have asked Tony how he felt about meeting Captain America, if his father's obsession colored his opinion of the man, but he hadn't. And now ... now, Steve Rogers, a man Rhodey knew, had trusted, and respected, had hurt the best friend he had.

He wanted to think that Steve would regret at least some of his actions if he fully understood what he'd done, but he didn't know, not for certain. Did Steve know about Tony and Howard's relationship? Who could have told him? Tony? Not likely. The idea of the symbolism of that shield being used to crush Tony's armor made him sick. Howard had used the shadow of Captain America to crush his son's spirit, but Steve had turned it into a physical manifestation of Tony's worst suspicion - that he would always be less than to everyone who mattered to him. That he was expected to swallow his betrayal and grief and follow Steve's lead in saving his assassin friend. Internalize a devastating breakup. To forever follow and never lead, his own ideas and dreams as trampled by Steve and the Avengers as they had ever been under Howard.

Tony wasn't a follower, he was an innovator. He looked for ways to make things better, easier, stronger, and faster. He wasn't any less heroic than Captain America - Rhodey had never been prouder or more terrified than when Tony had flown that bomb into space. His willingness to compromise didn't mean that his principles were weaker, only that he was more grounded in reality. Tony was often several steps ahead of any given situation, and he could see the writing on the walls with Ross and the Accords before the rest of the Avengers. Rhodey had seen it too, this time, for all of the good it had done either of them. They had both been crippled by this "Civil War," as far as he was concerned. It had taken his legs, but it had stolen the ability to trust from his friend.

Rhodey was jarred from his thinking by a crashing sound from down the hall that sounded suspiciously like small pieces of metal rolling around on a hard floor. He let out a sigh, counted to five, and called out in a voice that sounded calmer than it should have, "I thought you were getting yourself ready to sleep!"

The returning shout was muffled enough that it sounded like something about lox. Rhodey swore. He doubted that Tony was in there eating bagels.

"Don't make me come in there! I do not want to see your ass, even by accident!"

The returned shout of, "You know you do!" still sounded more muffled than it should have. The only way he was going to find out what the hell the man was up to was to wheel himself down there to find out.

As it turned out, the reason for the muffling was that Tony was halfway under his bed. His thankfully clothed hindquarters sticking out in a most undignified manner. There were small pieces of metal scattered about the floor. Nuts, bolts, nails, screws, tiny motor bits, and small tools. Tony scuttled out from beneath the bed with a handful of them.

"I knocked my backup emergency toolbox off of the shelf. Sorry for the noise."

Beneath his cheerful expression was something else, something darker, stretched tight and brittle. It was a testament to everything they had been through together when Tony sighed heavily and said, "I know. I'm not even a good liar anymore, am I?"

"I have no doubt that if you wanted me to believe you, you would have done a better job. What the hell are you doing, anyway? You need to sleep, It's 9:30PM and you've been dragging your feet ever since we got back from dinner. You have a press conference tomorrow at 1PM. If you make an honest effort now, you could catch up on 12 or so hours of rest, and you need it."

"I know. I - "

He hesitated, and that little pause hurt Rhodey more than it should have. The hesitation where there had never been one before. Steve Rogers' betrayal had somehow flung shrapnel even against the trust Tony had in Rhodey, and it hurt.

"Come on, Tony. Talk to me. You're all I've got right now, man. Don't shut off on me."

It was playing dirty, and he knew it, but it worked. If he could make Tony feel like he was doing him a favor instead of burdening him, he would talk.

"I've been - well, me and the concept of sleep have been ... seeing other people for quite some time."

"How much time are we talking about here?"

"I've been at least a little bit fucked up since Afghanistan. Insomnia, night terrors, dreams that seem too real ... Pepper helped. A lot. But now ..."

He trailed off.

"Have you seen a doctor? Do you have a prescription for something to help?"

"I have four prescriptions. One of them made me sleepwalk, one of them makes me dull and stupid when I wake up, and the other two make me wake up in the middle of a panic attack. Apparently, they don't make one for Stark brains."

"I'm sorry, man. Anything I can do to help?"

Tony offered a weak grin. "Keep being awesome?"

Rhodey gave his friend a pat on the arm. "Come with me. I have an idea."

He led the way to the common area, and patted the couch. "You do better when you have distractions, so maybe you'll sleep better that way too. We're going to turn on the TV and hang out, you'll pass out and get some rest, and maybe the subconscious noise in the background will keep your weirdo Stark brain busy enough to bypass all of the nonsense and let you sleep."

Tony looked worried. "What about you? You don't have to play slumber party with me out here. You should be comfortable in your bed!"

He shrugged. "Or I could be comfortable in this insane, space-age recliner you modified especially for me. And I could be comfortable in the knowledge that my best friend needs something that I can actually help with. Either/or, man. You're the one with somewhere to be tomorrow. I can pretty much chill all day with the exception of physio."

When Tony flopped onto the sofa and buried himself in a blanket, Rhodey was relieved. He turned on the TV to a wildlife documentary and asked, "What do you want to watch?"

There was no response, and suddenly, Rhodey realized why. On the screen, a bear lay dying in the snow. When he had first turned it on, a fight between some wolves and the bear had been raging, and now the wolves were gone and the narrator was saying in a British accent, "Their young and their territory successfully defended, the wolves retreat to fight another day. The bear is not so lucky."

"Shit!" Rhodey mashed the remote control to change the channel to anything but that. He turned to get a good look at Tony. His eyes were bleak, tired, and shadowed.

"Fuck _Wild Russia_. Fuck Animal Planet. Why do I feel like the universe is trying to drive home some kind of point here?" Tony rubbed his eyes as if to alleviate a headache.

"Hey," Rhodey said, as gently as he could. "I can't imagine what that fight was like, and I wish you could forget. If I hadn't been laid up, I would have been with you and things would have gone differently in that bunker. Even if we'd gotten our asses handed to us, you wouldn't have been alone like that for all that time, and maybe us metal men could have kicked some super soldier ass, who knows? Either way, two on one is bad form, and so is leaving a man behind. I'm on your side in this one, Tony. We were right. Right about the Accords, right to try to bring in the team and not hurt them. The Raft was as much of a surprise to you as it was to them, and if - IF you ever need to use that phone and contact Steve and the team, and if we need to fight with them again, I want you to know that you are my Bucky Barnes."

Tony scowled, "I'm your what? I'm your kinda-Russian brainwashed murderer?"

"Asshole. You know what I mean. If I were Captain America, then you are that friend I'd throw it all away for. The friend I'd punch Steve in the face for. The one I'd break the law to help. I'd like to think that Natasha would let the two of us escape if we were on the run, like she did for the Ice King and Spangles."

"I thought I was the nicknamer. It was kinda my gig," Tony whined. "You've been watching Cartoon Network again?"

Rhodey shook his head. "The new _Teen Titans_ is terrible, I'm not sure how _Clone Wars_ is going to fit in with the new _Star Wars_ canon, and I may be addicted to _Adventure Time_. See, I wanted to call the Super Soldier twins Finn and Jake, but I wasn't sure which one was the human and which was the magic dog."

Tony gave him a look, but he defended himself, "Hey, I've got some time on my hands, and it reminds me of college. Cold pizza and cartoons, right?"

"You're getting better at the nicknaming game, but a Padawan you still are."

"Then you better up your game, Yoda."

He glanced at Tony, happy to see a grin on his face again. "Star Wars?"

"Star Wars," Tony frowned for a moment. "Rhodey? Did Nick Fury remind you of Mace Windu?"

"Are you asking me because I'm black?"

"I'm asking you because you're the only human being willing to hang out with me right now," Tony pulled the blanket over his face again and Rhodey threw him a small pillow and called up the movie on the screen.

"Marathon? Originals first, then prequels, and then the new one?"

"Sounds good. I miss when I used to take a drink every time Leia hit her mark. And every time Artoo beeped."

"Tony, Leia never misses. She always hits her mark ... oh. I see. Yeah, that's in the past. How about you take a sip whenever the storm troopers hit something?"

"Those guys couldn't hit a barn in broad daylight. Yeah, your plan is probably better. Have you seen the new movie yet?"

Rhodey shook his head. "Nope. I was too busy. You?"

"Nope," Tony grinned. "At first, I was worried about what Disney was going to do to the franchise, and then I was so busy with the Avengers, I never got around to it."

With a sigh, Rhodey admitted, "And yes, Fury reminded me of Mace Windu, too."

There was no reply. Tony was already asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

The Wakandan quarters they had been given were comfortable and safe, but they were not home. After Bucky's decision to go back under the ice, Steve felt like he'd found his home only to have it taken from him once again. He didn't have it in him to deny his friend anything that he requested, not after everything he had been through. He was even fairly certain that if their positions had been reversed, he would have chosen the same - he had chosen a similar path when he went down with the plane and slept for 70 years, but that didn't make it any less painful. He hoped someone could help Bucky before he was frozen for 70 years or more. And, he couldn't afford to make the mistake of thinking that his own emotional pain trumped the rest of the team's. Sam was as loyal and practical as ever, but he blamed himself for Rhodes' injury, and it wasn't like there was a group therapy session for people who felt like they should have been shot instead of someone else available to fugitives in hiding. Clint was clearly distressed about the very real possibility of not seeing his wife and children for a long time.

There were many things Steve regretted, but the decision to call Clint out of retirement was high on the list. What had it all been for? To save Bucky only to have him choose to be frozen again? Wanda had put Vision through several floors of the Avengers compound when she escaped with Clint, and it was clear that she was disturbed by her own actions. Natasha had arrived, tired and strangely quiet, just yesterday. She had seemed particularly frustrated that Bucky had been frozen again, but when Steve explained that it was his own choice this time, it seemed to help, at least a little bit. It felt like Scott Lang hadn't shut up since they had arrived, but he knew that a lot of his joking and chatter were a cover for his worry about seeing his daughter again. Two fathers, separated from their families because they had followed Steve.

He didn't miss the shield. Sam had asked about it, and at first had been upset that Tony had it, but Steve had assured him that after what he had done with it, keeping it was no longer appropriate. And, he hadn't been able to bring himself to tell the rest of the team exactly what had happened in Siberia. T'Challa knew some of it, but even he hadn't seen the fight, didn't know what had happened inside the bunker. He needed to talk to the team, tell them everything. He owed them the whole truth, and he now knew the kinds of terrible things that happened when people who were supposed to be a team kept important things secret. The only other person who knew everything was frozen in cryo in a Wakandan laboratory, so it was Steve's responsibility to learn from his own mistakes and come clean.

Sleep had been a problem. When they had first arrived, he wanted to spend every moment he could with Bucky before he was frozen again, and now, he was driven to exhaustion by his own thoughts. He relived every moment of the Siberian bunker in his head, remembering how good it had felt when he first saw Tony. The knowledge that he had come to help even though they had a fundamental disagreement over the Accords had given Steve hope that there would be some kind of solution, that they remained a team. And then, Zemo had ruined everything by pointing out that Steve had been living a lie for some time.

Seeing the naked emotion play across his former teammate's face had made him feel nauseous with betrayal and desperation. No amount of reasoning, backpedaling, or placation had been able to move Tony once he found out that Bucky had killed his parents. It wasn't often that Tony's emotional state was so honest and bare. The man had more masks than a costume shop, but the sound of his voice when he said, "I don't care. He killed my mom," had been running through Steve's head ever since. _He killed my mom. He killed my mom._ He imagined watching someone kill his mother - it wasn't hard, he'd watched the illness take her a lifetime ago. He remembered the gut-wrenching pain of losing her and couldn't imagine having a face assigned to the deed, a person who had been the one to take her away from him. The very least he would have done was punch the killer, stop him so he couldn't do to anyone else what he had done to him. He imagined finding out that he had fought alongside someone who knew the truth and didn't tell him. He imagined discovering that after years of friendship and teamwork that someone close to him had kept the truth from him and harbored his mother's killer. And yet, he couldn't visualize a situation in which he would turn his back on Bucky. He wouldn't, couldn't do it. He had been put into a position where there was no way to win, and he hated himself for feeling as though the knowledge that Bucky was safe was a victory, because the cost had been too high for himself and for the others.

"You have to tell them everything. They gave up their lives to follow you."

He startled at the sound of Natasha's voice, and she smiled at him. "Sorry. Old habits. I'm a quiet walker."

Steve gestured to her to sit down on the sofa, and she slipped out of her boots, drawing her feet up on the cushion beneath her.

"I know. Can you ... help me sort through it, Nat? I need to make sure I do this right. I need to understand what I want from them, what I think is right, before I expect them to understand. My head isn't a clear place right now."

Natasha nodded sympathetically, and Steve felt a wave of relief. Natasha understood people better than anyone else he knew. She could help him make sense of his own head.

"How ... uh ... how is Tony? And Rhodes?"

She sighed heavily. "Rhodes is currently paralyzed from the waist down, but Tony's already developing tech to help him walk. They're both staying at the compound, Vision too. Tony started working on Rhodes' troubles the moment he got back to his workshop."

"But ... how is he? I - the fight in the bunker was bad. Really bad."

"I know. A lot of people thought Tony might be dead. It took them 18 hours to get him back to the US. They took him straight to the hospital, but he checked himself out immediately and went to Rhodes. He told me to leave before he went to help you, but I waited around to find out what was happening. I only saw him briefly when he came back, and he told me again that I 'd need to watch my back, and I took that as the warning it was. He knew Ross would be on me for letting you and Barnes escape, and he was right. I barely bugged out in time."

Steve hesitated. He felt like he didn't even have the right to ask, but he needed to know. "How did Tony look? Is he okay?"

She shrugged. "Well, he looked like he'd been in a fight with two supersoldiers. His arm's been hurt since he tried to stop Barnes from rampaging after Zemo triggered the Winter Soldier. His face is a mess, but it seemed to be healing. I think he probably broke or cracked some ribs, but he told me to butt out and leave before Ross detained me. He was trying too hard to move normally."

Natasha looked like she wanted to say something else, but wasn't sure if she should.

"What is it? You look conflicted. Tell me, Nat."

"I think it's been a long time since Tony was okay. He never got the help he needed after the Battle of New York, and Sokovia has haunted him since Ultron. He tried to give it all up for Pepper, and she left anyway. The guy was starting out at an emotional disadvantage, and none of this has helped. I know you didn't feel like you had a choice, Steve, but the Accords weren't a terrible idea. Ross is a piece of shit, and Tony knows that too, but after what happened with Wanda in Lagos, people needed to have their confidence in us restored. That's why I signed. A visible gesture of understanding and a pledge to do better in the future. I wanted the people I protect to see me doing something that shows that I'm listening to them. Sometimes making someone feel heard is more important than actually changing any behaviors. Reassurance and communication are so much more important than most people ever understand. I can kick ass with the best of you, but more often than not, carefully chosen words inflict the most damage and do the most good."

Steve grimaced. This was Natasha telling him, however gently, that he should have made Tony feel heard, and he knew that she was right. His concern for Bucky had driven everything else from his mind to the point that he hadn't been willing to let his friend finish explaining. He was starting to understand why Tony had always found him frustrating to work with - if he couldn't listen to a proven, trusted ally for fifteen minutes, what kind of leader was he?

He was a soldier, but he had never been a traditional one. He'd gone from 90 pound weakling to super soldier, to dancing monkey, and then he had started doing what he thought was necessary, even when his commanding officers didn't approve. Any other soldier who had done what he had done would have been dishonorably discharged, but Steve was celebrated. Had he gotten used to being celebrated for what he could do to the point that the input of others was nothing more than an irritation to him?

He had surrounded himself with others who held similar viewpoints. Peggy was just as bad as Steve in her own way, Howard, as brilliant as he was, made no bones about the fact that he could do what he wanted because he was the smartest man in the room. Bucky had always had a reckless, adventuresome side, and the rest of the Howling Commandos all had something to prove as well. He had been well-insulated from the consequences of his own actions by the very nature of the company he kept. What was it Tony had said, that he was "dangerously naive?" Now that he was a thousand miles away, hiding from his own government and team, with another group who had chosen to follow him and his ideals, now that it was too late to consider consequences, he realized that it was true. He was naive, and he didn't have a good plan, and his friends were suffering for it. _Dangerously naive._ They were literally in danger because of him. _Dammit, Tony. Way to be a prophetic asshole._ He could almost hear Tony's mocking, "Language, Captain! Our virgin ears!"

Steve rubbed his temples and let out a frustrated sigh. "I still don't agree about the Accords, but I know it's too late for any of that to matter now. I used the shield Howard made to beat up his son. I can't imagine how I got here. Howard was a friend. He made me Captain America, and he was a good friend to Peggy in my absence. I almost killed his son. When I think about it like that, it sounds unforgivable. Tony and I had our disagreements in the past, but we got through it. He more than proved himself during the Battle of New York, even after I said some really awful things. I thought we were friends, I really did!"

Natasha shifted to get more comfortable on the sofa, and Steve offered her a pillow and blanket. "Might as well settle in for the long haul, right?"

She laughed softly. "It might take all night to sort out your head, Rogers. I guess we should start with why we didn't tell Tony about his parents. I'm not sure we can justify that decision now that I think about it. I feel badly about it and wish that I had acted differently. I think I could have told him in a way that still kept Bucky separated from Winter Soldier, and that Tony would have been upset, but would have had more time to process it first. He's got a pretty big heart even when he's mad underneath all of his ridiculousness."

He shuddered. "A heart I slammed my shield into until his Arc Reactor shut down his suit. It took them 18 hours to retrieve him from Siberia? Those jerks could have been there in seven. Ross left him there to punish him for not capturing me!"

Natasha smiled sadly, "Most likely. He's a vindictive little troll. When you busted the team out of the Raft, Ross called Tony, but he put Ross on hold and just left him there. I wish I'd been there to see it."

"How do you know? Who's your informant on Team Stark?"

"Rhodes. We stay in touch. He told me straight up that he wasn't keeping any secrets from Tony, and that he would show him any communication we have. He absolutely will not risk losing Tony's trust. Sometimes, Tony throws in a, "Tell Natasha to stay safe," or a, "Tell Natasha she can take the knife out of my back anytime she likes," She shrugged. "It kind of depends on what kind of a day he's having. Right now, the bad seems to be outweighing the good, but I hope to try to change that."

Steve leaned forward, his head resting on his knees, and Natasha put a hand on his back in a gesture of comfort. His voice was muffled when he said, "I'm going to start at the beginning and tell you every single thing that happened. Take notes if you have to. I need to make sure I'm not leaving anything out. I'm not doing this to another friend. All of you should know what happened, what I did, what Bucky did, and what Tony did. If anyone wants out after finding out the details ... I sent Tony a phone and a letter, which ... when I think about it now, probably came across as pompous and self-important, but ... I won't ask him to forgive me, but the team - I think he would consider helping any teammates who might be willing to sign the Accords."

Hesitantly, Natasha said, "I think he might even want to, but Ross has his hands tied, and last I heard, Rhodes was having a hard time keeping him from the edge. I'm not sure he can help anyone unless he gets some help himself."


	5. Chapter 5

The Avengers compound was quiet. It was early in the morning, about 5:00AM, and Rhodey was sleeping peacefully in the recliner. Tony had managed about seven hours, which was more than he had had in the last three days put together. He cracked open an eye and quickly closed it again. His head hurt. Badly. He calculated his misery-to-tiredness ratio and quickly decided that taking something for the pain was a necessity if he was going to deal with a press conference today. As he pushed himself up to a sitting position, he opened his eyes again. Even the dim light felt like it was slicing his retinas in half.

"Shit!" He swore as he staggered upright and tripped over a blanket.

"What are you doing up? It's 5AM, Tony!"

Rhodey's voice was husky with sleep, but the accusatory tone was there. It reminded Tony of their MIT days.

"Headache. I need to take something."

To their surprise, Vision appeared out of seemingly nowhere, three pills in one hand and a glass of water in the other. He helped Tony back to the couch and offered him the water and medicine, which he took gratefully.

"Thanks, Vision. Good to see you out and about. You've been a bit scarce."

Vision didn't seem to know how to respond. "Well, I - that is, I felt that I should ..."

"Spit it out, Vis," Rhodey ordered.

"I felt that my presence might be more ... unpleasant than helpful, and so I have been keeping mostly to my own quarters."

"Bullshit, Vision. This is your home too. You are free to use this place just like Rhodey and I do. I mean, don't have wild parties with all of your hot, android honeys shakin' it across the common area ..." Tony paused, his arm across his face to coddle his aching head. "Scratch that. Bring the android honeys, and shake it to your heart's content."

"I do not have a heart, and I don't know what the "it" is that you think I might shake, but thank you for making your home my own as well."

Rhodey laughed. "Why do I get the impression that you know exactly what he means and choose to feign innocence?"

Vision's face had an unsettled look, as though he wanted to smile but wasn't sure that it was appropriate. The uncertainty in his expression chiseled away at Tony's tired, aching heart. He squinted up at him from around his forearm and patted the couch, moving his feet out of the way. "Sit, Vision. Hang out with us."

The android backed up a step, and Rhodey sighed heavily. "Vision, no one blames you for what happened to me. We were all distracted, no one could have predicted Wilson would move when he did, and it was a very unfortunate accident. You fought for us and stayed with us, and this is your home. We're glad you're here, okay? Stop walking around like you're afraid to fart in your own home."

"Colonel Rhodes, I do not ... 'fart,'" said Vision hesitantly. "I don't require food, and ..."

"Please, please, don't explain to me why you can't pass gas," Tony groaned from the couch. "Just quit being weird and interact with us. It's completely creepy to live with someone you see no evidence of for days at a time. Leave a magazine out. Put coffee grounds in the disposal. Live a little, okay?"

Vision cautiously sat down at the end of the couch and picked up a magazine from the coffee table and stared at it with more intensity than was strictly necessary for an old entertainment magazine. Tony lay still, willing the headache to stop.

"Mr. Stark?" Vision asked, after several minutes of quiet.

"Yeah, Vis?"

"I need to ask - who or what is One Direction, and why are all of these people crying?"

He heard Rhodey stifle a chuckle. Tony sighed, squeezing his temples. "They're a band. Group? A ... brace? Coven? Whatever. They're a musical act, very popular with the ladies."

"If they are so popular, then why do these young women all look so upset?"

"You're what, one year old? Why don't we give it a couple of months and see if you figure it out on your own?"

"Mr. Stark, are you saying that I am too young for this material?"

The distinct feeling that Vision was trying to make him laugh crept over him. Before he could say anything, Rhodey answered, "Not at all. I think he's saying that we're both too old for this shit."

Vision's inscrutable features brightened. "I have seen all of the movies in the Lethal Weapon franchise, Colonel Rhodes. They were included in a list I was given of things I should experience to acquaint myself with humanity."

"Who gave you this list, and what else is on there? I mean, if Lethal Weapon was on there, Die Hard better be on there too. And Star Wars," Tony said.

"Star Wars? Does this refer to former US President Reagan's plans to create a weapons system in space during the Cold War era?"

Tony didn't push for who gave Vision the list. it had to be one of their former teammates, and if Vision didn't want to talk about it, he was just as glad not to have to.

"You're in luck. Rhodey and I are having a Star Wars marathon. You should join us when we watch one and we'll make sure you don't come out some kind of Jar Jar Binks loving weirdo."

Tony covered his eyes with his arm again, and Rhodey frowned. "Hey, Tony? Head getting worse?"

He nodded, wishing he could just drink it away. It would work, until it didn't.

"Okay, call me crazy, hyper-paranoid, or whatever, but I think you should get yourself checked out."

Tony would have rolled his eyes if his arm wasn't covering them. "You mean medically?"

Rhodey groaned. "No, smart ass. I mean sexually. Yes, I mean medically! There are a few things that have me worried, and I just don't think I can fully relax until I know you're okay."

Tony hated going to the doctor, and damn if Rhodey wasn't good. He knew that Tony wouldn't deny him the smallest comfort and if it took getting a clean bill of health to make Rhodey feel better, he would do it. He would bitch the entire time leading up to it, during it, and after it, but he would do it.

"After the press conference," Rhodey insisted. "I'll take you myself. In case they knock you on your ass with drugs, or you conveniently forget to tell me something important. I keep looking at the dents in your suit and thinking that there could be internal damage, and you're still not eating right. And what if the headaches are related to an unresolved brain injury? I need to keep you smart, man."

"Friday? Enter my symptoms into Web MD and give us the top five results," Tony commanded.

Friday sounded almost hesitant to respond. "Sir, the top five results are varied for each symptom, but what they have in common is cancer."

"See why I don't want to go?"

Rhodey just shook his head. "That's because you had Friday use Web MD! If you put in cold symptoms, it thinks you have cancer! Have Friday use actual medical databases from top universities!"

Friday did the calculation without prompting from Tony. "All signs point to concussion, dehydration, sleep deficit disorder, and untreated damage to the bones and tissues of the thoracic region."

"Good girl, Friday!" Rhodey praised the AI.

"HIPAA violation, Fri!" Tony said indignantly.

Friday replied, "Colonel Rhodes is your next of kin and medical decision proxy. I assumed that it was acceptable to answer his questions."

Vision looked up from his magazine again, and asked, "Is a Roomba meant to be piloted by a cat, or is this just a happy coincidence?"

They both laughed out loud, leaving a confused Vision to return to his reading.

Tony pushed himself into a sitting position, and struggled to open his eyes in the dim light. Rhodey tossed him his sunglasses from the side table and eyed him with concern.

"You should postpone the press conference. You look miserable."

"Can't. I've kept everyone waiting long enough. Pepper said it has to happen to keep bad shit from happening to Stark Industries. I can't let this affect Pepper more than it already has. I can do this. And then I'll let you whisk me off to be probed like a laboratory rat. Promise. Now, who wants breakfast?"

Rhodey's phone beeped, louder somehow in the darkened room, and Tony asked, "So how's Natasha?"

He tossed the phone to Tony, who read it aloud, "Great times. Wish u were here. Not rly. Safe and laying low. Tell Tony good luck at the PC."

Tony tossed the phone back to Rhodey and sighed. "Tell her "thx" from me. And tell her she texts like a middle school cheerleader with a broken thumb."


	6. Chapter 6

"... and that's why my ... the shield is ... not here. I used it to do things I can't regret but probably should. Howard Stark was my friend, a lifetime ago, and I used something he gave me to hurt his son while protecting the man who killed him. Even if it was the Soldier who did it and not Bucky ... if I had told Tony, given him some time to get used to the idea, things would have been very different."

All things said, Natasha thought Steve did an admirable job of struggling through the brutal details of everything that had happened prior to rescuing the rest of the Avengers from the Raft. She stayed with him as much to support her friend as she did to shoulder her share of the blame. Steve was right. Secrets had driven the wedge between him and Tony, and the best way to avoid that eventuality with the other Avengers was to acknowledge that it was wrong and work to avoid it in the future. Something deep inside Natasha ached. She felt in some way detached, apart. She was _made_ of secrets, some a matter of national security, but others the kind that were too personal, too well-tucked away in her psyche to consider accessing. She hoped none of her own secrets would emerge to drive her further apart from the others. Part of her wished that she had stayed with Tony, Rhodes, and Vision at the Avengers Compound, but Tony had been so utterly convinced that Ross would come for her and find a way to have her arrested for helping Rogers and Barnes that he had convinced her to go. Of course, it hadn't helped that he was so angry and betrayed at her actions that he could hardly look at her. Besides, from what Rhodes had texted her, it was just as depressing there as it was here in Wakanda.

She didn't regret her actions, but she did regret the betrayal. Even when she had been undercover as Natalie Rushman, she had recognized that the Iron Man Tony Stark was not the image he gave to the world. In some ways, she thought that Tony and she understood each other in ways that the less emotionally nuanced Captain America would never be able to comprehend. Not that Steve wasn't intelligent, because he was, but the kind of deep personal introspection necessary to craft an image seen as authentic by most ... not only would he never understand why it was necessary, he would find it distasteful. And, Natasha thought sadly, that distaste was easily picked up on by people like her and like Tony. Steve couldn't understand why a person would or should want to be or be seen as anything other than themselves, which was part of why this confession to his teammates was tearing Steve apart. He was bewildered by his own actions. Throughout his explanation, he kept subconsciously looking at his own hands, an expression of surprise and horror on his innocent Steve-face. Natasha wanted to hug him and slap him at the same time.

Sam saved her the trouble, coming to stand side by side with Steve and flinging an arm around his shoulders. "You're human, okay? This just means you're human. The Accords still suck, and you were put in a position with no way to win. I don't regret sending Stark to help you, and it sounds like that's what he was going to do until shit went south. There's no predicting a manipulative sack of crap like Zemo would have a fucking VHS of someone's parents being murdered in the '90s. Tony didn't come there to punch you and Elsa out, he came there to help you stop super soldiers from rampaging and killing innocents. That said," Sam gently cuffed Steve on the back of the head. "If there is anything else you know about that you need to confess before it comes back from the dead to rip the steering wheel out of my car, the present is as good a time as any to get that off of your chest."

Steve looked like he wanted to cry, and Natasha wasn't sure if it was because he was stressed or if it was because Sam had mentioned Bucky. Bucky's decision to go back under the ice was not sitting well with Steve, but the emotional fallout was locked away in the same vault where Steve stored all of the trauma he had no way to process.

"Don't call him Elsa, Sam," Steve said, but the words lacked conviction.

Sam shrugged. "He called me worse."

Steve smiled faintly. "He sure did."

"And neither damn one of you knows how to let a thing go. Does that make you Princess Anna? Nah, you don't talk enough. I think you're both Elsa. Don't worry too much about Bucky, okay? We'll have him out of the ice when T'Challa and his scientists figure out how to get Hydra's programming out of his head. You were frozen and we've got you. You super soldiers - the cold never bothered you anyway."

Natasha understood exactly what Sam was doing, even if Steve hadn't figured it out yet. By coming forward first, forgiving Steve in front of the others, and turning the conversation to gentle joking and comfort, Sam was trying to set an example and the tone for the others. It was a very Natasha thing to do, and she felt proud of Sam in that moment.

Scott Lang stepped forward, a sympathetic smile on his face. "I'm concerned about how much the Bird Man here seems to like _Frozen_ , but I agree. You should have told him about his parents and none of that mess in Siberia would have happened the way it did, but I'm not perfect either, Captain America. Hey, that's two things I have in common with Captain America! A cool suit, fighting bad guys, and keeping shit to myself when I should have confided. That's three! If I had talked to my wife when I was about to blow the whistle on VistaCorp, I might not be the sad, divorced a-hole you see before you," He looked at Sam pointedly. "I mean, I know every damn word, but I have a daughter, so ..."

Sam glared at Scott. "I have nieces, Tic-Tac. And what the hell is so wrong with a man enjoying an animated feature anyway? The dialogue was clever. Sometimes, I watch cartoons to unwind. A little less shooting and running around in my life can be a good thing from time to time!"

Natasha was watching Clint, her heart pounding with emotion. The man was somewhere between a brother, her work-wife, and her best friend. She owed him everything and loved Laura and the kids too. She felt partially responsible for him coming out of retirement, and the idea of him not seeing his family hurt her too.

"Goddamn it, Steve!" Clint swore. "I'm telling Tony off in the Raft like a huge asshole, and it turns out he's the one who helped you get us out? He's out of his mind to consider working with Ross, and the Accords are a steaming pile of fuck-no, but where does this leave us? You sent him a letter and a phone?"

"A _flip_ phone," Natasha added helpfully.

Clint pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "You sent Tony Stark, the futurist asshole tech genius of our time, a _flip_ phone? Where did you even get it? 2001? You got a time machine, Rogers? If you do, can we go back and get a good, old-fashioned redo on all of this crap?"

Wanda had been hanging back until now, but even she cracked a smile at the idea of Captain America sending Stark a flip phone. She moved to stand beside Clint and said gently, "Steve, you've made mistakes, but so have I. If I hadn't messed up in Lagos, none of this would have happened. Yes, I was trying to help, but an action I took directly caused loss of life. You were trying, in a way, to keep the peace by not telling Stark what became of his parents. That turned out to be a mistake, but you didn't do it maliciously, just as I never meant to harm anyone in Lagos. That doesn't mean we were right and it doesn't mean we haven't caused damage. It means a lot to me that you told us these things. That shows me that you're the kind of leader who learns from the past, and that's the kind of leader I feel I need."

Natasha's heart did a strange little flip inside her chest when Clint reached out and took the girl's hand. He always had a way with strays, and Wanda was bringing out his protective, fatherly instincts. Laura would be proud. Well, after she stopped being furious, she would be.

Sam patted Steve's back and kept the nearly overcome supersoldier from breaking down entirely. "I know the fight with you and Barnes and Stark got out of hand. I know what that's like - don't forget that I'm a soldier too. Emotions run high and you're forced to make one snap decision that leads to another. I don't know if Stark would have killed Barnes or not, but I get why the fight happened. I get why he went to help and ended up trying to kick your ass, and I get why you couldn't let him win. Disabling the suit was a good call, under the circumstances. The part that I'm having trouble with is Ross making him wait 18 hours for a rescue. That's messed up. I mean, I'm mad at the guy for the Accords, but ... if you'd seen his face when Rhodes went down ... he blasted me, but it was on stun."

Natasha felt the anger begin to bubble up inside her again. That was the part that bothered her the most. She and Tony didn't always see eye to eye, but she felt that her time as Natalie Rushman had afforded her a different view of the billionaire than her other teammates had. She had had time to observe, snoop, spy, and generally be herself, and that had, as fucked up as it sounded, caused her to form something of a bond with the man. She had been with him when Zemo had triggered Barnes and had seen Tony engage Barnes with no armor at all. She had been the one to see him bruised, exhausted, terrified, and brave, and so, so hopeful that the Accords would be the thing that would help.

Steve was easy to love, with his friendly, open demeanor. She had enjoyed trying to set him up on dates, teasing him about his old-fashioned ideas, and hanging out with him as a teammate and friend. Tony was ... harder. Not that he couldn't be lovable in his hyperactive, mad-scientist way. He could be a lot of fun, and she would never forget what he had done for Bruce by offering his friendship without fear of the "other guy." Thinking about Bruce was not something she was willing to deal with at the moment, so she filed that thought away as quickly as it blossomed. The idea of Tony waiting alone, trapped in a dead suit ... her anger burned. No one deserved that, least of all Tony whose active mind would have turned over and over, analyzing everything until all of it somehow became his fault.

"What's even more messed up is that he hasn't made a stink about it. Rhodes is out of the hospital and staying at the compound now. I've been in contact with him via an encrypted text script I made myself. I already told Steve, but I wanted to tell the rest of you as well. Rhodes and I communicate, but he made it clear that every text he or I send are available to Tony. He's not doing secrets right now either. Rhodes didn't know about Ross's 18 hour waiting period until a couple days ago. That means Tony didn't tell him until Rhodes dragged it out of him."

Clint was whispering something to Wanda, shaking his head, but whatever he had been telling her not to do, it hadn't worked. She spoke quietly. "Since we are coming clean as a group right now, I have something else to say. I gave you all terrible visions when ... during Ultron, before. But I did something else to Stark. I didn't really know exactly what I was doing at the time, but my intentions were not kind. I hated him, wanted to hurt him, was angry with him, more than the rest of you, and I put a vision in his head, his worst fears, but none of it was what I thought it would be. It was you, dying and then dead. All of the Avengers defeated. His mind was ... different than I thought it would be. I stopped. It was like being - being burned. I regret that sincerely, now. That, and hurting Vision. He only wanted to help and protect, and I just ... something inside me was so angry, and the next thing I knew, I had put him through the floor." She glanced at Natasha. "Is Vision all right? Do you know?"

"Vision is at the compound with Rhodes and Stark. He's safe," She reassured Wanda.

Steve seemed to be finally getting his feet back under him. The stress, grief, and relief seemed to roll off of him in waves. "I sent the letter and the phone because even if we're not a team right now, someday, probably sooner than any of us want, there will be a threat that requires all of the Avengers to put aside their differences and fight together to save the world. I wanted let Tony know that we're game if he is. Are we all in? Can we work together if we have to? Are all of you still willing to - to work with me?"

Natasha pasted a smile onto her face, even though she was tired, emotionally wrung out, and frustrated that her team was fractured. "Count on me, Steve."

Sam was next. "I didn't cram into a VW Beetle older than me with Elsa hogging the entire backseat, get imprisoned by Ross, and run away to Wakanda with you because I hate your guts, Cap. I'm in. I can work with Stark if we need to."

Scott raised his hand like he was waiting for the teacher to call on him. "I'm uncomfortable working with the Bird Man and his unstoppable showtunes, but I've come too far to back out on you now, Captain America!"

"Watch it, Tic-Tac," Sam grumbled, but he didn't look mad.

Clint let out a frustrated sigh. "I don't see a way out, really. Not right now. I threw in with you, Cap. I meant it then, and I mean it now. I'm questioning Past Clint's sanity occasionally, so if you find that time machine you must have used to pluck a fucking flip phone out of 2001, let me know, but ... yeah. Especially knowing that Tony helped you get us out ... there's probably hope for the asshole. I can work with him." He glanced at Wanda, who looked hesitant. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to, kid."

She smiled. "I trust you, all of you. I would prefer not to use my abilities in battle again until I've had time to practice more, gain control. I can't have another Lagos on my conscience. I can't lose my temper and do to someone else what I did to Stark. It wasn't right. But, I trust all of you. I'm in."

Natasha felt a relieved sigh exit her body. Next to her, Steve still looked like he wanted to be sick and then sleep forever, but he looked a little less like he might shatter if she hugged him, and there was no one in the world who looked like they needed a hug more than Steve did right now. She slipped her arm around him and gave him a quick, reassuring squeeze. Things were far from good, but things were slightly less awful than they had been a little while ago. At least there hadn't been a secondary team split. That might have destroyed Steve, and, she admitted to herself, she would have hated it pretty hard herself. She took out her cell phone when it vibrated and saw a message from Rhodes that said, "T says 'thx' and wants you to know you txt like a mid school cheerleader with a broken thumb. Dragging his ass to docs tomorrow aft PC."

She texted back quickly, "Good. Make sure they chk lft arm. Tell V Wanda asked about him."

Steve asked quietly, "Rhodes?"

Natasha nodded. They would talk later.


	7. Chapter 7

The press conference was brutal, but professional. Tony fielded questions like the genius he was, peppering in comments meant to lead the reporters in the directions he wanted them to go and away from areas he was not willing to discuss. Vision had stayed at the compound, concerned that his very appearance might cause more problems, but Rhodey was there. He wasn't about to leave Tony alone, especially since he was kidnapping the man to a doctor the minute he could spirit him away.

Again and again, Rhodey pictured the rents in the chest plate of the Iron Man suit, and the matching injuries on his best friend's chest. Steve Rogers had done that to the best friend Rhodey had. Had done that to _Tony_ with fucking Howard's creation. If Steve knew what Rhodes knew about Howard Stark, he hoped he would have reconsidered his friendship with the man. Did the man Steve knew seem like he might hit his kid? Make his son feel like less than enough? Ignore a brilliant young man desperate for his father's approval and affection? He had respected Steve, considered him a friend, but after his failure to even try to understand where they were coming from with the Accords, and his prioritization of James Barnes over everything else, Rhodey was finding his respect flagging. They were both soldiers and although the Hydra infiltration of SHIELD was an epic letdown, it was Rhodey's job and privilege to listen when 117 countries asked to be heard. He was disappointed in Steve for not feeling the same. And mad as hell that he'd hurt his Tony this badly. The part of him that still respected Captain America held onto hope that Steve had no idea how badly Tony had been hurt and that the significance of the shield had been lost on him.

Rhodey had read the quickly-suppressed unauthorized biography when it had first come out, and had confronted Tony about some of the details within. After some prodding, Tony had admitted that parts of it were true, but had downplayed the seriousness of the author's claims. According to tony, the former Stark employee who had spilled to the author had been a particularly innocent, wide-eyed new assistant nanny who had happened to walk in on a scene already in progress. A terrified seven-year-old with a bruise already blossoming on his face, the pieces of the creation he had been trying to show to his father scattered around him, and a furious Howard yelling at the boy. Tony had insisted that the employee simply misinterpreted the events, that Howard had been drinking, was angry, but that he had struck the tiny robot his son had created, and one of the parts had hit Tony's face. Rhodey snorted. Like that was so much better.

Tony had actually let the makeup artist near him for long enough to cover up the dark circles and remnants of the worst of the bruising that had yet to fade. He didn't want pity, he wanted respect, and to get it he had to look the part. People had expectations when Tony Stark talked to the public, and he knew better than to let them down. The press conference was held at Stark Industries, at Tony's insistence, and Pepper had made absolutely certain that SI's public image was perfect, down to choreographing the best-looking employees to walk past and demonstrate tech in the background. SI was constantly innovating, and the public needed teasers for what miracles they could expect next. Presenting Tony not as Iron Man, but as the innovating force behind SI was the best option given the circumstances, and to look the part, he needed to appear as unruffled and un-beaten-up as possible. When Tony came out and started shaking hands, smiling, and joking around, part of Rhodey was proud, but another part felt sick that his friend could be so convincing when he was so far from all right.

Tony's smile was bright when he addressed the crowd of reporters, "Well, I can imagine that all of you are just filled with questions. Some of those I'm going to answer, and some I may not. Don't worry, my days of being photographed drunk in a multi-level hot tub in Dubai with six fashion models are well behind me. Aw, don't look so sad, Newsies! If I don't give you something, you'll go Broadway on me, and start dancing in the streets. I've seen the movie."

The crowd of reporters chuckled collectively, and there were at least a couple of them who blushed and smiled, as though Tony had told them they were pretty. _Damn_ , the guy was good. Rhodey met Pepper's eye briefly and knew that she was thinking the same thing.

"All right, who's first? Red Dress? How about you? That's why you wore the dress, right? To be noticed first?"

Red Dress was a female reporter in her thirties, with long, sleek, dark hair, wearing a professional but fashionable red shift dress with a matching jacket. Her press badge indicated that she was from the Associated Press.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Stark. Elena Rey from the AP. And you're right about the dress - seems to have worked! My question is in regard to the 'Civil War' that occurred between the Avengers. You sided with the United Nations in agreement that oversight was necessary, and Steve Rogers disagreed. Could you explain the nuances of your opinions for our readers and listeners? What exact points of the Accords did you and Captain America disagree on?"

Tony nodded in affirmation, and began, referencing portions of the Accords by section and title often, and speaking about how he intended to work on amendments because the Accords were an excellent idea that required some extra attention. It was obvious that he had not only read the documents, but internalized them the way he might have a technical manual. He listed several amendments he considered necessary, and when he was done, the reporter in the red dress asked, "Mr. Stark, that was a well-thought-out response, but it only answered half of my question. Which parts did Steve Rogers disagree with?"

For one split second, Rhodey was worried, but Tony was on top of it. "Steve was opposed to the document in its entirety. There was no part of it that interested him. His main argument was that the safest hands were our own and that governments and agencies cannot be trusted with that task. I disagree."

He had managed once again to be the smartest one in the room, and to do so without leaving the press with the impression that Steve had not even read the document.

"Thank you, Mr. Stark," said Red Dress, as she stepped back into the press zone.

"Who's next? You? Boring suit? Yeah, you just looked down to see if I meant you. You know it's a boring suit. A little advice? Blue silk tie and take it to an alterations shop. I know CNN pays you enough to get a suit tailored. The blue will make the pinstripes pop. You're welcome. What's your question?"

Boring Suit wasn't angry or particularly embarrassed. He grinned affably. "Thank you, Mr. Stark. My girlfriend used to pick everything out, but we broke up, and I figured boring was better than accidental buffoon."

At this, Tony laughed, a real, actual laugh that warmed Rhodey's heart. "We've all been there. And you're right. Boring is better than buffoon. Question?"

"With all of the fighting between the Avengers and the constant coverage of some of the more recent incidents around the world, do you know anything about the whereabouts of the other Avengers? Have you heard from Thor or Dr. Banner? If so, how do you think they would side in this conflict?"

Rhodey saw the brief flash of raw grief in Tony's eyes at the mention of Bruce, and knew how much Tony appreciated the reporter referring to him as Dr. Banner instead of The Hulk.

"Their whereabouts are unknown. I certainly would hope that they would have sided with me, but that wouldn't be my call to make. Dr. Banner is a brilliant man and a good friend, and wherever he is, I wish him the very best. Thor has responsibilities other than the Avengers in Asgard, and I trust that he will return when he is able."

Boring Suit replied, "And the other Avengers? If Captain America's team wanted to come back and rejoin the Avengers, would that be feasible? Could you work with them after everything that happened?"

Tony's jaw tightened, and he pressed his hand unconsciously into his chest, where the Arc Reactor had once been. "The Avengers Compound was created to house the Avengers. Just because we have a difference of opinion standing between us right now doesn't mean that it will always be that way. I'm willing to work with anyone I need to to keep the world safe. If the Avengers want to come home, I will do what I can to help that happen, legally and within the boundaries of the Accords."

By the time the press conference was over, Tony had laid on the charm so well that well over half of the reporters were probably crafting headlines that supported the return of the Avengers. The problem was that Rhodey was certain that Tony wasn't ready for them to come back and live in the compound again. He wasn't ready to face them after they had abandoned him, and Rhodey wasn't either. This was a topic that was going to require more conversation at a later time.

Tony remained seated until everyone was gone and it was only Pepper and Rhodey who remained. He leaned forward onto his elbows and rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands. "Pep? You have any of those little makeup wipe things in your purse? I've got to get this stuff off of my face."

She dug in her bag and produced a small package of them. "Here. Use as many as you need. I have more."

"I guess I should buy some of these," he said as he scrubbed his face. "Access to the treasure trove in your purse is definitely something I miss."

He grinned up at Pepper, who returned his smile, then dropped into a seat next to him. She reached out and tilted his face toward the light, running a thumb softly over the remnants of the bruise under his eye. His breath caught in his throat at her touch, and she quickly removed her hand.

"Sorry," she said softly. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I just - I was surprised the bruises hadn't all faded by now. No wonder you let Tilda at you with the makeup this time."

"It has faded. A lot. It was really ... dramatic."

Pepper glanced up at Rhodey, her eyes filled with concern.

Before she could say anything, Tony spoke, "Listen, Pep ... I'm okay. Don't worry. I didn't want you to worry, so I hid out in my lab, like I always do. It felt good to take out my ... issues on technological creativity. I haven't been drinking, even if I wanted to a few times, and making tech for Rhodey is as close to feeling good about anything I've made as I've felt in years."

She reached out a hand to cover his. "Just because we're not together doesn't mean I don't care what happens to you. I care, Tony. And, I want to know how this happened," She gestured at his bruised face. "Did you get hurt when Barnes broke out? During the fight at the airport? And ... they said you went to Siberia ..."

He shook his head. "I can't. Not yet. Not right now. Ask - ask Rhodey later. He can tell you anything you want to know." Tony looked at Rhodey hopefully. "Can we go now? We're going to be late for our appointment. You've got my permission to tell Pep anything she wants to know. I just - I just can't right now."

With an apologetic glance at Pepper, Rhodey laid a supportive hand on Tony's shoulder and squeezed gently. "Let's get you out of here the back way. No lingering members of the press to hassle you."

Leaving Pepper seated at the table where the press conference had just happened, they left. When Rhodey looked over his shoulder at her, she mouthed, _"Take care of him!"_

Rhodey nodded firmly at her. Pepper looked miserable, and he wondered if she regretted breaking up with Tony. It hadn't seemed to save her any worry or grief. He would talk to her later.


	8. Chapter 8

Tony felt like an idiot for freaking out in front of Pepper. He hadn't minded letting his guard down for her when they were together, but now that they weren't, it felt wrong. He had barely been able to tell Rhodey what had happened and he couldn't tell her, didn't want to see what kinds of emotions played across her beautiful face. Basically, he was a coward and he had to escape before his heart betrayed him. If finding out what had happened to him triggered some sort of emotional response in Pepper, whether it was to distance herself even further from him, or to take him back out of pity, he wasn't strong enough to deal with it and he knew it. He didn't blame her for leaving, but that didn't make it any less painful, and it was, hands down, the most painful breakup he had ever been through.

He let Rhodey take the lead. This whole making him go to the doctor thing was his idea, and if it got him away from Pepper Potts and those big, sad eyes of hers ... that was for the best.

The office was in a tall building with lots of glass, not unlike Stark Tower. The doctor was a retired S.H.I.E.L.D. staff physician, well-versed in taking on patients whose physiology was not exactly standard and very much accustomed to accepting patients who literally could not tell him how their injuries had been sustained. Dr. Haskell was a tall man in his early fifties with graying blond hair. Rhodey had found the doctor through some of his military connections and had been assured that Dr. Haskell was good, thorough, and unlikely to be a security risk.

When he saw who his new patient was, his eyes widened. "Well, I'm not sure who I expected, but it certainly wasn't you, Mr. way Colonel Rhodes sounded over the phone, I was nearly expecting to see Nick Fury when I opened the door."

Tony was startled for a moment, wondering just how much this retired S.H.I.E.L.D. doctor might know about Fury, the Avengers, and any number of other things.

"Colonel Rhodes explained to me the need for confidential services, and I want to promise you that confidentiality is the lifeblood of my practice. If people like you can't come to me and trust that your care will be excellent and confidential, my business is lost. Would you care to examine my record systems before we start? I use the best tech I can find on the market, and Stark International is my favorite. I got used to it when I worked for Fury. The man's a huge fan of your work, Mr. Stark."

Tony felt himself relaxing a bit as he began examining the systems and equipment. The man wasn't lying. He was using the best Stark technology that was on the market for private purchase, and he was using it well.

"It's always nice to see my tech put to good use. Call me paranoid, Doc, but if this," he gestured between them, "If this doctor-patient relationship works out, you'll have new tech by tomorrow night. State of the art stuff we only use at SI."

Dr. Haskell smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Stark. Shall we get started? Do you want Colonel Rhodes to remain or wait outside? I've been watching the news, and I know you must be under a lot of stress right now. There's no shame in needing support."

"Rhodey? You mind staying? I mean, if Doc tells me to turn around and cough, maybe just turn your back or something?"

Rhodey nodded, patting Tony's shoulder. "Of course. And you just keep pretending that you're not trying to make me look at your ass."

Tony smiled at that. "Quit pretending you don't want to see it. I'm told it's not the worst, as far as asses go."

Dr. Haskell cleared his throat. "I have seen many pairs of buttocks in my time. If yours are anything special, I will let you know. Now, your last physician was probably Dr. Banner, am I correct?"

"Yes. Bruce was the only one I felt I could trust at the time."

"Well, Dr. Banner is a brilliant man. I had the privilege of working with him a handful of times over the years. Should you see him, please tell him that Jacob Haskell would love to pick his brain about a particularly nasty strain of the Zika virus I believe to have been genetically altered."

Tony laughed. "That sounds like something that would interest him. Sadly, I haven't seen Bruce for some time, but if I do, I will let him know you want to talk bugs."

"Let's get down to it, Mr. Stark. Your friend called to find you an appointment because he's concerned about injuries you sustained during the Avengers Civil War. Would you care to elaborate?"

Tony didn't want to elaborate, not even a little bit, but he knew he had to. "I've had some ah, panic attacks? When I talk about it or think about it too much, so if I ..."

Dr. Haskell interrupted him, "I see. If anything gets to be too much, we'll stop and take a break. In your line of work, and I don't mean as head of Stark International, such things are far more common than you might think."

Tony told the doctor everything, even some details he had left out when he told Rhodey the first time. He didn't spare the time or energy to lie or make himself the hero or the villain of the tale. He didn't go easy on Steve this time, either. He had to stop three times to take a break, and each time, the doctor talked him through the onset of the panic attack and with Rhodey's help, distracted him with talk of technology and shared acquaintances until he was ready to go again. The doctor looked at his ribs, listened to his heart and lungs, and most importantly, listened when Tony said he needed to stop.

The doctor's face looked grim when he told him that the damage to his chest was a result of taking a beating from Captain America's shield. "Vibranium ... it's a testament to the durability of the Iron Man suit that there wasn't more damage than this. You've been walking around with broken ribs for over a month, and it looks to me as though one of them might have a jagged edge under the skin, which would explain why your bruises aren't healing well. Your ribs aren't out of place, fortunately, but small chips of bone might have been pounded away, leaving sharp edges. Does it hurt when you take a deep breath?"

Tony nodded. "Not as bad now, but yeah. It's kind of twingey."

Dr. Haskell asked, "How about sleeping habits?"

At this, Rhodey spoke up. "He's had horrible sleeping habits since I met him at MIT, but things are worse than usual. He's getting only a few hours here and there. And yesterday, he had a really bad headache. That was what got me worried enough to drag him to a doctor. I'm scared he's got serious head trauma or something. Also, have a look at his left arm."

Tony was too tired to protest that he was fine or that Rhodey was mother henning him. It was actually kind of nice to think that Natasha had ratted him out about the arm, and that he had someone in his life who cared as much as Rhodey did.

"Well, we'll find out about head trauma too. There's a laser surgery technique that will allow me to make a tiny, tiny incision and repair the jagged bone in your ribs. It's outpatient, fast and easy. You'll probably feel better as early as tomorrow morning without that bone keeping the blood flow fresh to those bruises. I'll do a scan of your head and see what we're working with there."

By the time the doctor had finished, it had been three long hours, lots of testing and scanning, and some breaks for Tony's mental health. Dr. Haskell had no problem letting the increasingly antsy inventor exercise his curious mind by turning the whole process into an opportunity to discuss medical technology, and Rhodey even obliged the Doctor's curiosity by letting him have a look at the leg supports Tony was still not satisfied with.

"I can tell that you have previously been a man in good health. You quit drinking, you haven't started up, even under incredible stress, and that is impressive. You get regular exercise and you normally ate a good diet. That's the good part. Recent events beyond your own control have you under an intense level of stress, and that is manifesting throughout your body in several ways. Your blood pressure is elevated, your heart rate is elevated, you have several mineral and vitamin deficiencies, you're a little bit anemic, and you've lost more weight than I would like to see. You mentioned your difficulty sleeping and that you've been prescribed for that before? I have a new prescription for you. I want you to call me and report the first night you use it when you wake up in the morning. We'll do that for three days in a row. If it makes you feel like the others did, discontinue its use. We can take care of the laser surgery in my office today if you want to, or schedule it for the morning. I consider it an acute situation. There is no reason for you to sit around in pain when I can fix the problem in half an hour. There is evidence of concussion as well. Fortunately, no brain bleeds were detected, but you can't be too cautious. We'll keep an eye on that. Your left arm had two stress fractures and a badly pulled muscle, likely caused by trying to stop a rampaging supersoldier at point-blank range. You'll need a little bit of physical therapy to make sure that heals properly."

Dr. Haskell paused for a moment, then continued, "I know you can't just take a vacation. I mean, you could, but that isn't going to fix any of the problems. Often, enhanced individuals and soldiers alike experience PTSD, and I would say that your stress, panic attacks, and generalized sensitivity right now are symptoms of the overarching problem. I'm not a psychologist, but I will make a referral to one you can trust. I would have suggested that you attend the meetings Sam Wilson used to run, but as he's part of the problem right now, we'll look for another solution. You may be Iron Man, but you're also Tony Stark, the mushy human center of the Iron Man suit. You've taken one hell of a beating and you didn't take care of yourself properly, and now your body needs a little bit of TLC. I don't want you fighting again until I see you in two weeks to reevaluate your progress. Colonel Rhodes, you're staying with him?"

Rhodey nodded.

"And you have another roommate - the Vision?"

"Yes. There are currently three of us residing at the Avengers Compound." Rhodey said.

"Then I hope the aliens stay the hell put for a bit so the three of you can have a bit of a breather. Colonel Rhodes, you're still in the recovery process yourself, and Mr. Stark is going to need to be off duty until I'm satisfied that he's getting better rather than worse. I've only seen Vision on the news. Is he faring well? Can he handle active Avengers business for awhile?"

Tony replied, "Vision is in good condition and I trust him to take care of most things, but I do insist on being present with him via comms. He's only really a year old and he's the only being of his kind. He needs guidance."

"Well, if you can provide that from a soft sofa with your feet elevated, then be my guest. I want you both to make sure you're having three meals a day, at least two of them healthy, and drink plenty of water. Mr. Stark, do you wish to proceed with the outpatient surgery today? You will feel much better, and the surgical tool I use was made by your company. The incision will be about one inch or less. You can choose a local or total anesthesia. You won't feel anything either way."

Tony fidgeted. The idea of being cut into, even a little bit, was frightening for him after all of the trauma he had associated with the Arc Reactor that used to keep him alive. He found himself holding his fist over his chest, struggling to breathe yet again. "Rhodey? What should I - ?"

His friend had a comforting hand on his shoulder before panic could set in. "I'm all for getting it over with so you can start to heal the right way," Rhodey glanced at the half-circle bruises on his best friend's chest and suppressed a shudder. "I think you should be all the way knocked out so you don't panic while you're being worked on. That's my opinion, but Tony - it's your body. You tell me what you want, and I'll help you all the way, just like you do me."

Tony hated wasting time, and if it could be fixed today, there wasn't any reason not to. He felt overwhelmed and tired and angry at the whole situation. He was angry at Natasha for letting them get away deliberately, and then professing to care and worry. He was angry with Sam for following Steve's lead without thinking for himself. He was angry with Wanda for playing around in his mind and for not understanding the position her actions had put him in. He was angry with Clint for coming out of retirement and adding his wife and kids to the list of people Tony felt responsible for helping, and he was angry at Steve for refusing to listen, for valuing Bucky so much more highly than him, for filling him with renewed anxiety over things that seemed so stupid and small. But more than anything, he was also intensely grateful for Rhodey. What had he ever done to deserve a friend like him? What had Rhodey ever done to deserve being stuck with him?

He mustered a watery smile. "Well, buddy ... how do you feel about spending your evening babysitting my drugged ass?"

Rhodey smiled back reassuringly. "Always trying to get me to look at your ass. Let's see, I had plans with ...you. And Vision. So, yeah, my evening doesn't really change much here."

"Okay, then," Tony said. "I guess we're doing this thing, Doc. If Pepper calls, you can tell her anything. It's okay. I don't mind her knowing, I just couldn't be the one to say it."

Rhodey patted his good shoulder. "Don't worry. You're going to be okay, and we'll ... I don' t know, we can hire a nutritionist or something if we have to. You're amazing at breakfast food, but my cooking skills haven't improved much since college, I'm afraid. I'm fine with MREs and spaghettios, left to my own devices. And Vision ... he's hit or miss. And every damn thing he makes is some Eastern European thing. I'll ask Pepper what that horrible green shake was she was always bringing you. It looked healthy."

Tony laughed. "Man ... that was a mint shake with dark chocolate shavings."


	9. Chapter 9

After the doctor had repaired Tony's ribs, Rhodey had called Pepper while they waited for Tony to wake up after the procedure. He told her what the doctor had said and about how the injuries had occurred in the first place. It felt good to share the burden of knowledge and let himself be angry.

Pepper's tone was horrified when he told her about Howard and Maria Stark's murder, and how Steve had used the shield against Tony and left him in Siberia. "He _what_? How the hell - I mean, I'm sure he gave as good as he got during the fight, but ... I thought they were friends!"

"So did he. He broke the Accords to help with the threat of the other Winter Soldiers, but Zemo was just setting them up. Rogers chose Barnes, over and over again. Over the safety of his team, the concerns of a hundred and twenty nations, and over Tony. If he hadn't lied about Howard and Maria's murder, Tony wouldn't have been so blindsided and might have been able to think rationally. Hell, if I hadn't been laid up, I would have been with him and I would have made _certain_ he had someone objective to talk him down. As it was, he was already burning his candle at both ends, and he just snapped. He admitted he snapped and went after Barnes, and I think he even regrets it a little bit, but I think witnessing your mother's neck being broken might be a little much for anyone to handle."

Pepper was crying, he could tell, when she asked, "How did he even get home, if the suit was deactivated? God, I just can't - he's had way too much trauma to his chest even before this, with the reactors, the removal, the heart surgery ... even if the reactor was just powering his suit, the memory of Obie, and the terrorists ... shit, Rhodey. What are we supposed to do with this? He needed help even before this Avengers stuff started, and I - I left him. I'm a part of the problem here, really. How can I help without hurting?"

He paused. She was right, of course. Being around her too much was just going to give Tony false hope if she didn't intend to get back together. He was too vulnerable right now.

"Honestly? I think the best thing you can do is keep running SI and doing a great job at it. He's not up to it right now and so much of his time is consumed by Ross, the Accords, and looking for a way to bring the idiot squad back from Wakanda."

Pepper huffed softly. "Do they still think we don't know where they are?"

"Apparently." He could almost feel her epic eyeroll through the phone.

"Well, then. I suppose I should let you get back to him. Thank you for keeping an eye on him. I wish I could be more ... present, but if he's still ... well, dangling myself in front of him like a carrot he could earn and leaving again ... he deserves better."

Rhodey sighed. "That's what he said about you, that you deserve better. The two of you are just about the best people I know, so if "better" isn't the both of you, I don't know what is, but that's your own business, between the two of you. I'll keep you in the loop as much as I can."

"Tell Tony I'll handle SI right now. If anything requires his attention, I'll let him know personally. I'll check with you soon. Bye, Rhodey."

"'Bye, Pep."

Rhodey let his cell phone drop into his lap and allowed himself a few moments of just being angry before the door opened to admit the doctor into the waiting room.

"How is he?"

Dr. Haskell smiled. "The surgery was minor and was a complete success. He's having a little bit of trouble coming out of the anesthesia completely. I suspect his body wants to get all of the rest it can with or without his permission."

Rhodey rose slowly, reminded that his leg braces were the only thing keeping him upright, and that their creator had designed and created them while apparently suffering from his own injuries. Anybody who tried to tell him that Tony Stark was a selfish bastard could just take one of his mechanically-supported boots to the ass as far as he was concerned.

Tony was groggy, out of it, and so happy to see Rhodey that he almost fell off of the bed trying to get to him. Between Dr. Haskell and Rhodey, they managed to get him to a safe, secure sitting position.

"How are you feeling, Tony? Ready to go home?" He gave his friend's shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"Can't go home. House blew up and it's just a big closet without Pepper in it anyway."

Tony lurched sideways, his eyes half-closed, and the doctor caught him. "Mr. Stark, can you tell me what year it is and who is President? I don't feel comfortable releasing you if you're still this affected."

Tony struggled to open his eyes. "2001. Al Gore is President. We live in peace and harmony and all of the other countries still think we're pretty." He listed to the left, his head resting on Rhodey's arm for a moment before he sluggishly righted himself. "Our alien overlords are benevolent dictators and only take an annual cull of 50 humans per year. May the odds be ever in your favor." He tried to stand up, but sat right back down, blinking owlishly up at Rhodey and Dr. Haskell. "Oh, god. Am I in the wrong timeline _again_?"

The doctor looked a little bit horrified for a moment before he realized Tony was joking. "Mr. Stark, when one works for S.H.I.E.L.D. for as long as I did, you see a few things. Things that make the presence of beings like Thor seem quite commonplace. Can you stand up?"

Laughing, Rhodey helped Tony stay standing the next time he tried. "Let's get your ass out of here, Mr. Stank. Your marbles are a little loopy."

"See? You – you wanna seeeee it!"

"See what? What are you talking about – oh, for the love of God, Tony! Put that away! You're going to blind me with that pasty moon!"

He grinned. "Hospital gowns. I mooned you!"

"Yes, yes, you certainly did. I'm not going to provide you with a critique until you're no longer medicated and I can tease you about it without feeling like a jerk."

He located Tony's clothing in a neat pile, and set it down next to him. "See what you can manage with these, okay?"

The manic grin was gone, replaced with a worried frown. "I think – I think there was a meeting. Was I supposed to be in a meeting? A press conference? Am I going to be late?"

When Rhodey didn't immediately reply, Tony swore. "Shit. Pepper's going to be mad. I was supposed to be there, at SI, and …"

"No, no. You had a press conference earlier today, and you did a great job. I talked to Pepper while you were getting fixed up and she's not mad. She wants you to rest and feel better, okay?"

Tony swayed a little bit, then found his footing again. He sighed and started to dress. "Pepper. She's so pretty."

Tony seemed to be walking a fine line between sleepiness and silliness, with a melancholic edge, so Rhodey did the listening for him, entering the date for a followup appointment into his calendar, and memorizing prescription information. The last step was to get a shirt, pants, and shoes back onto Tony, who seemed to have decided that he was allergic to clothing while Rhodey and the doctor were talking. All he'd managed to put on were his underwear and his shoes, his hospital gown still on.

Dr. Haskell peered curiously at the inventor, who was trying to kick his left shoe off, mumbling that it was too hot and he just _had_ to remove them.

Rhodey sighed. "He's always had strange reactions to medications. Nothing about his brain is 'typical'. So far, he's no worse than he was when he had his wisdom teeth out in college. I can handle this, doc."

He had forgotten how badly drugs affected his friend. He now remembered when Tony had had his wisdom teeth out and had oscillated between happy and high and terrified and sad. One minute the guy was hugging him and telling him how much he loved him and the next he was apologizing to phantoms for sins past and imagined. He remembered calling Tony's emergency contact when one of the "high" cycles had resulted in Rhodey having to wrestle his friend down from the balcony, where he was loudly proclaiming that he was "Captain America now, bitches!" and hurling the lid to the garbage bin down to the pavement below, startling several other students.

Instead of Tony's parents, he had gotten Edwin Jarvis, who had demanded that Rhodey read the name of the prescription Tony had been given. Meanwhile, Tony's high had turned into a low, and he was _crying_ on Rhodey's shoulder, tears soaking the fabric of his t-shirt. He heard a very proper British accent swear eloquently for the first time that day. The drug Tony had been given should have been in his medical file as one he should not be given, as it had caused him to hallucinate once before. The old gentleman had said, "I'm afraid that the last time he was given that particular medicine, he was quite distressed. Can you manage him, Mr. Rhodes, or shall I arrange for him to come here?" Rhodey had taken about one second to decide, and had thanked Jarvis and promised to let him know how Tony was doing.

Something about the entire exchange had filled Jim Rhodes with a sick feeling of unease. His friend was ill and in pain and his parents weren't even on his medical file as proxies? When he had fractured his jaw in ROTC training and had surgery, his mother had stayed with him, brought him manageable foods, checked on him periodically afterwards, and even stroked his hair gently that first night when he had been particularly miserable. He had the distinct feeling that no one did that for Tony.

Surprisingly, Tony gave Rhodey very little trouble. He hated to put any pressure on the bandaged wound in his friend's chest, but he also knew that it would only take one paparazzo to thoroughly embarrass Tony by publishing a picture of him drugged and hurt, so he took his time helping Tony get it together. By the time he was properly tucked back into his suit, the effects were wearing off enough that he understood what was going on.

"I feel like crap," he announced, his tone too bright for his words. "Used crap. I might actually throw up. Sorry in advance if I get you with it." He put a hand to his forehead, then fumbled for his sunglasses. "Sorry I mooned you, Rhodey. Thanks for everything, Doctor H. Expect - expect a delivery from SI soon. Give me the bill for today in person and I'll pay you in cash. I don't want any record of it for anyone to use against me or - or the others later."

Rhodey pushed down the anger that his friend had the foresight even under the influence of heavy medication to conceive of others using his medical records against him, and that that anger was certainly born of past experience, and also that Tony was almost unconsciously still looking out for Steve Rogers. If the damage Rogers had caused a non-enhanced human, a _teammate_ , no less, came to light in a hearing or something in the future, it would damage his reputation and by proxy that of the Avengers. _Dammit, Tony, what's it like inside your head? Because from out here, it seems like you're engaged in an eternal game of chess, the terrifying cutthroat Russian kind._ And then, as if on cue, his phone beeped. Natasha.


	10. Chapter 10

"Mr. Stark, I'm afraid I don't understand something about this film," Vision said, his voice uncertain.

Tony looked up at the android sitting across from him on the other sofa and hit pause. He was tucked comfortably into a soft comforter, his head buzzing pleasantly from the pain medication. The doctor had been right - after the small outpatient fix, he felt better almost immediately. The incision site was sore, but not unbearably so, and the pain meds took the edge off of the pain in his head as well. He wasn't sure if it was the drugs or the procedure or both, but there was a lot to be said for not being in physical agony to improve his overall outlook. He was still upset and confused, but not hurting made it easier to bear.

"What is it?" He asked, pausing _Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back_ for what had to be the sixteenth time. He heard a muffled groan from the recliner, where Rhodey was doing a bad job of hiding his disappointment at yet another interruption.

"Well," Vision began uncertainly, "Luke has been warned not to go after his friends, but ... if he did not, he would not be able to live with himself, am I correct? If Yoda and Mr. Kenobi at all understood Luke and what he values, they must know that he would follow his heart, even if it meant his own death. Han, Leia, Chewbacca, and the droids are his family!"

Rhodey was laughing. "Mr. Kenobi? Why so formal, Viz?"

Vision looked confused for a moment before his face settled into a smile. "It's ingrained, Colonel Rhodes."

Tony stretched cautiously and happily noted that there was only a twinge of pain. Apparently, whatever the doctor had done to him really had actually helped, as promised. "They knew he'd do it anyway, but they felt like they had to try and stop him, at least let him see that he was walking into a trap. We good to continue, or do you have more questions?"

Vision hesitated for a moment, then that new, innocent smile was back on his face, incongruous with his synthetic appearance. "So you might say that Admiral Ackbar's immortal words were correct?"

Rhodey laughed out loud, and Tony felt a long-absent smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Rhodey, are you letting the Internet corrupt Junior while I'm working my ass off at the office all day? He's starting to talk in memes."

"Everyone knows, Mr. Stark, that the Internet is for cats," Vision said. "And apparently, that reading the comments is a terrible idea. And I saw a delightful video just this morning of a cat that said, 'hey' instead of the usual 'meow.' It was as though a human male had possessed its furry body."

At an impatient groan from Rhodey, Tony hit the play button. "Just watch the movie, Vision. At this rate, we're not going to finish it before it's tomorrow."

He felt the medication start to pull him away again, but not in the way that gave him anxiety. It was somehow a gentler experience, made better by the assurance that Rhodey was nearby to watch his back. He vaguely heard Chewbacca's howl of rage at Lando's betrayal, thought fuzzily, _"Am I fucking Lando?"_ and then he was out.

* * *

Medications always had screwed with his brain in ways that were unsettling at best, and terrifying at worst, so when he slipped into actual REM sleep and started dreaming, it was so foreign to him that he didn't even understand what was happening immediately.

At that moment, Tony's phone began to vibrate, the harsh buzz an unwelcome interruption. The drugs were pulling him further and further into his blanket-coccoon while Luke Skywalker hung on for dear life on Cloud City. The phone was too damn far away. He wasn't going to answer it ... he drifted off for a moment, and it stopped, but immediately started up again.

He sat up, dizzy and tired, and reached for it, glad that he had when he saw that it was Peter Parker. "You've reached the phone of Anthony Stark. He's asleep and watching Star Wars right now - "

He stopped his joke in mid-breath when he heard a gasping sound from the other end of the phone.

"Mr. Stark? I - I think I need ..."

The boy made a pained sound again, and Tony barked, "Peter! Where are you? Tell me where you are!"

At Tony's serious tone, Rhodey and Vision turned to watch him.

"Peter! Are you there? Answer me!"

There was a horrible hesitation, and then the sound of running and another pained cry.

"I-I'm here. I think I need some - some help ... there's a guy after me and I - I thought he was just - just a guy, but he can do stuff - think he's enhanced."

"Friday! Get me the location of this call!"

Tony stood up, and called the suit to him. "Rhodey, get ready. Call the doc, would you? Tell him to come to us. If he can't, tell him I'll pay whatever it takes!"

Into the phone, he spoke more gently. "Peter, I'm on the way. Where are you hurt?"

The kid's voice was fainter now, and Tony felt like his heart was going to pound its way out of his chest.

"Ribs - definitely. And something hurts in my - my side. I'm scared, Mr. Stark."

"Don't you let go. I'm coming, okay?"

Vision and Rhodey still stared as the suit flew to its creator, engulfing him in metal. It was his newest model, not yet complete, but almost there.

Rhodey protested, "Tony! You just had surgery! You're drugged, man. You can't -"

"You didn't hear him. He's just a kid! He's hurt and he needs help. I'm not letting that kid down! Get the doc and I'll be back here as soon as I can. I'm not going to engage the threat more than necessary to get Peter out."

Vision stepped forward. "I should go."

Tony was already halfway out of the window.

"You're too recognizable and your position is too unstable. They expect me to mess up. If I get caught, which I won't, I can say I was looped out on post surgery meds. We can make documentation if we have to. Gotta go, you guys. The kid needs help. Get the doc here - for the kid!"

He was gone, out the window in an unfinished suit, drugged and hurt, and Rhodey wasn't sure if he wanted to punch something or scream, possibly both. Instead, he did as Tony had asked, and called the doctor.

* * *

Tony found Peter fast. The new tech he had given the kid contained a couple of emergency trackers, and the phone signal was easy for Friday to trace. The teenager was practically crawling down a dark alley, two larger men in pursuit. One of them blasted the pavement next to Peter's head with some sort of energy beam. The kid managed a well-placed kick that should have dislodged his attacker, but the man didn't even move.

Peter stayed down this time. Tony didn't have much time. He wasn't close to a hundred percent, and Peter needed help fast. He appeared out of the shadows, well aware of the dramatic effect the lights and sounds of his suit made. Friday analyzed their opponents quickly, and Tony adjusted the strength of his repulsor beam accordingly.

He heard one of them say, "Shit! It's fucking Iron Man!"

The other replied, "I thought he was retired!"

"You've made a series of poor choices, gentlemen. Men. 'Assholes? I'm not sure how to address you, really."

Two shots and both were down.

"You're not dying. You're temporarily paralyzed. Should give you enough time to think about your lives and about how easy it was for me to hand you your asses. I mean, I didn't even bring my real suit and you both just went down, like ... well, like things that go down. A _lot._ I'll let you draw your own conclusions. Best of luck, assholes. Hope the cops don't find you before it wears off."

He spared them a backward glance.

"Nah, that's a lie. I hope they do. Fri, call in a 911 to this location, would you?"

With that, he scooped the frighteningly still but thankfully conscious Peter off of the pavement and took off as fast as he could back to the Avengers compound, where Rhodey and Vision waited.

His head swam a little bit, but he shook it off. "Not Lando. Han Solo. I'm a space pirate with hella swagger!"

Friday agreed. "You certainly are, sir."


End file.
